Wizard of the Crow (89 page)

The Ruler pointed a finger at Tajirika and said to him solemnly, “You are a resourceful man, Governor. You were once stricken with the malady of words and you found a cure. A person who can take over a whole armed camp with a bucket of shit and piss as his only weapon can surely find the sorcerer I need. Governor, over to you!”

Weeks after his elevation, Tajirika could still not believe that he was now governor of the Central Bank of Aburlria. He could not be blamed for being a little cautious about accepting his new status, for
his fortunes had swung from one end of the pendulum to the other, time and again, since the Wizard of the Crow came into his life on that fateful evening at Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate to look for a job he clearly did not need.

Many were the times he had found himself saluting his reflection in a mirror—Hello, Governor, are you really he? The sound of the word
governor
thrilled him, recalling as it did the long line of colonial governors of territorial Aburlria. What had started as a playful act of self-affirmation now became a need, and more and more he found himself conversing with his reflection, especially on matters he could never talk about with anybody else. Hello, Governor, what shall we do today? he would say to the image in the mirror as he brushed his teeth or tied his tie. And just before departing from the house: Bye-bye, Governor. And in the evening: I am back, Governor. How was your day at the office? And any of these lines could trigger a dialogue with himself in the mirror.

So when the Ruler gave Tajirika the task of finding a sorcerer to exorcise the evil blocking the voice of the Wizard of the Crow, he was back at the mirror, speaking to his reflection.

“Where shall I start? Should I go along the streets, stopping people and saying, Excuse me, I am the new governor of the Central Bank. Can you please tell me where I can find a sorcerer? A bit embarrassing, wouldn’t you say, for the governor of the Central Bank to go about the streets of Eldares asking for a witch doctor?”

Many Aburlrians did not believe that people, except the aged, died of natural causes. They believed that all untimely deaths were caused by witchcraft. Were Tajirika to openly look for witch doctors, might he himself not be deemed an agent of death and held responsible for harm suffered by others, Machokali, for instance? And suddenly he had a vision of being blamed for all deaths in Aburlria, and he shuddered at his foolishness. He stared helplessly at the mirror, not realizing that he was shouting: “Governor, what shall I do? What shall we do to get the Wizard of the Crow a cure without putting ourselves in danger?”

“What danger?” Vinjinia, who had just come into the bathroom, asked him. “Why are you talking to the mirror? Have you forgotten the past?”

Since Tajirika’s capture by the women and Vinjinia’s by Kaniürü and his youth, the two had improved their relationship. Their social life had also changed, and not a week went by without invitations to cocktails and dinner parties at seven-star hotels. The glittering socials and the closeness to power were attractive to her, and the political talk and gossip did not repulse her the way they used to do. The only thing in her previous lifestyle to which she clung with the same intensity was her churchgoing. She went to the same church, All Saints, but since her husband’s promotion she noticed significant changes in how she was now received. She and her children had a special pew reserved for them at the front near the altar, and the number of men and women who now and then stopped to say a word, shake hands, or simply ask a question and get advice even on spiritual matters had risen dramatically.

Just when she thought that her affairs were running smoothly and that she could sit back and enjoy life, she grew alarmed at seeing her husband talking once again to a mirror. She recalled that other time when Tajirika was stricken by his malady of words and how it all began. Was he about to have another seizure? The earlier one had come after his appointment to the chair of Marching to Heaven. Would his ascendancy to governorship be followed by another loss of words? The only difference this time was that he was not clawing at his face. Tajirika’s name and his last meeting with Machokali at the Mars Cafe were mentioned in the government statement compromising Machokali. Was this haunting her husband? She was not sure, and in her prayers she begged God to exorcise whatever daemons might be bedeviling her husband. Vinjinia started surreptitiously stalking him in the house. There would be no more surprises, she told herself.

One morning she heard him clearly mention the name the Wizard of the Crow, and he was so absorbed in whatever had made him cry out that he did not even notice her presence. She decided to confront him: What danger? What about the Wizard of the Crow?

It was a Sunday morning. At first Tajirika was rattled by the sound of Vinjinia’s voice. He managed a smile but did not succeed in hiding his anxiety. He now seemed relieved to see her. Even though they were variously occupied during the day and did not see as much of each other as they would have liked, Tajirika was always happy to brag about himself to Vinjinia, especially about how the Ruler trusted him or how his enemies like Kaniürü and Sikiokuu were now desperate to appease him. I am now the man, he would tell her, and he loved it when she cautioned him not to be drunk with power like some people she knew. This would make them laugh, because they knew that by “like some people I know” she meant Kaniürü. But even so, he did not tell her everything that happened in the State House. Nothing about the money trees, or the night that Machokali went missing, or even the capture of the Wizard of the Crow. This business of advising the Ruler is not easy, Vinjinia, and I am burdened by state secrets, he would sigh. But he would quickly beam with pleasure when he heard Vinjinia say: Don’t worry,
you can’t have your cake and eat it.
This all comes with the territory.

Now her questions suddenly reminded him that it was she who had introduced him to the Wizard of the Crow when he was stricken by white-ache. He was sure she could come up with another sorcerer. Women had a sixth sense.

“I need some sorcerers and witch doctors,” Tajirika said to his wife without any preliminaries.

“What!” Vinjinia exclaimed, taken unaware. Was he joking, or had he gone feeble in his head?

“I want you to get me the most powerful sorcerers and witch doctors available,” Tajirika repeated.

“Sorcerers?”

“Even one will do,” Tajirika said. “But many are better than one, for I can choose the best among them.”

“What are you talking about? What do you all of a sudden want with sorcerers?” Vinjinia asked when she saw that he was serious. “Whom do you intend to bewitch?”

He sat her down and told her about the capture of the Wizard of the Crow and of his affliction. Still the Ruler wanted to ask him a few questions that only he, the Wizard of the Crow, could answer. The task of getting a healer to heal the healer had been thrust upon him, he explained.

“What on earth do I know about sorcerers or where to find them?” Vinjinia asked, shrugging it off.

“You are a very resourceful woman, Vinjinia,” Tajirika pleaded. “I am dead sure that you can find me a sorcerer as you did before.”

Vinjinia was about to remind him that it was Nyawlra who led her to the Wizard of the Crow, but thought the better of it.

As the wife of a governor and a successful businesswoman in her own right, she wanted no part of Nyawlra, the Wizard of the Crow, or the razed shrine.

It is true, though, that when news of the arson first reached her, Vinjinia felt despair, worsened by her not knowing whether or not Nyawlra had perished in the shrine. Vinjinia felt responsible; she was burdened by guilt and could talk to no one without revealing what she knew about the identity of one of the faces of the Wizard of the Crow. She was haunted by images of the charred remains of Nyawlra, but in time she had managed to suppress them.

Now Vinjinia recalled the many times that Nyawlra had come to her aid and was surprised to find herself feeling as when she first heard that the shrine had been burnt down. How could she tell Tajirika that Nyawlra, who had led her to the Wizard of the Crow and was the only one who could show them the way, had been reduced to ashes? How could she tell him that she knew nothing about sorcerers, witches, diviners, and healers? She did not want to break his heart, so she tried to be diplomatic.

“Well, I will keep my ears open,” she said, sounding sympathetic.

“Please try—I believe that even among your fellow churchgoers there are many who go to sorcerers at night,” Tajirika pleaded. “Pray to God to show you the way.”

Vinjinia tried hard not to laugh, as she realized that Tajirika was serious about her seeking God’s guidance in finding his sorcerer. Alone in the car on her way to All Saints Cathedral, Vinjinia laughed openly, so ludicrous had been her husband. She was, after all, a middle-class Christian woman. A respected churchgoer, the wife of the governor of the Central Bank and chairman of Marching to Heaven, and now a full managing director of all Tajirika Enterprises, including the well-known Eldares Modern Construction and Real Estate, how could she go to church on a Sunday and ask her fellow worshippers: Can you tell me where I might come across a diviner? Or, Our Sister in Christ, please tell me about your personal witch
doctor? No. Let Tajirika and the Ruler conduct their own witch doctor hunt.

A few yards from the church door, she bumped into Maritha and Mariko, who told her that they had been waiting for her, but she assumed that this was the usual case of people wanting to shake hands with her and to make themselves known to her. But what would Maritha and Mariko want from her? They always looked completely at peace with themselves, as if they dwelled in a world of their own.

“We just wanted to catch you before you went in,” Maritha said quickly.

“Yes, because after the service, it is very difficult to get close to you. There is always a crowd around you,” added Mariko.

“And you important people are always so busy” said Maritha, “that …”

After church, you might simply drive away” said Mariko.

“Is it something that can wait until after the service?” Vinjinia asked impatiently, time being of the essence, for she wanted to be present at the beginning of the service. Vinjinia was one of those who felt lost if she arrived after the beginning of a service or any performance.

“It is only a message,” said Maritha.

“But it can wait until after the service,” added Mariko.

“From whom is the message?” she asked, curious.

A dove,” Maritha and Mariko said together.

A dove?” Vinjinia asked, frowning.

But instead of replying directly, Maritha and Mariko started to sing and dance around, like two children at a party.

Maritha and Mariko were well known in the church community for their comic ways in going about things. But now they had gone too far. Prancing about, only a few yards from the entrance to the church? Vinjinia quickly looked around in sheer embarrassment, fearing the disapproval of potential onlookers.

“Let us meet after the service,” Vinjinia said very quickly. “Let us meet over there, where I have parked my car,” she added, pointing to her Mercedes-Benz by the road. “If you get there before I do, please wait for me,” she added, hurrying into the church.

It was during the service that Vinjinia recalled who Dove was and started shaking so much that she could hardly follow what Bishop Kanogori was saying at the altar. Thank you, Lord, thank you, Jesus, she heard herself say in silent prayer. Nyawlra was still alive! Her guilt was assuaged, and she realized that she had been deceiving herself in imagining that she had successfully repressed all thoughts of Nyawlra. But where was she? And how did Maritha, Mariko, and Nyawlra come to know one another so well that she could trust them with such a message to Vinjinia?

She recalled the many rumors provoked by the couple’s declaration of victory over Satan. Some gossipers had claimed that Maritha and Mariko may have visited the shrine of the Wizard of the Crow, where they got a magic potion that rekindled their love to a level that rivaled that of their youth. But soon anxiety replaced Vinjinia’s initial relief and curiosity. What was the content of Dove’s message? What did Nyawlra want from her?

Did she want to give herself up? The recently appointed national hostess—what’s her name, Yunique Immaculate McKenzie—was she not at one time an advocate of bad politics? When she gave herself up, the Buler forgave her and even gave her a job. Maybe Nyawlra had read about McKenzies appointment and had seen the light and was now willing to kneel at the feet of the Buler. Maybe she wants me to take her to him.

But what would the consequences be of her being associated with Nyawlra? Should she, the wife of the governor of the Central Bank, be encouraging contact with an enemy of the State? After the service she could simply avoid the usual crowd of well-wishers and favor seekers and go straight to her car and drive away. That would send a
clear message to Nyawlra that Vinjinia did not want to renew their relationship. But she decided that she should first hear the content of the message before settling on a course of action. After all, she could be wrong about the dove’s identity and intent.

As soon as the service was over, Vinjinia got out and hurried to her car. Maritha and Mariko were already there. She asked them to get in the car, drove some distance away, and stopped. Caution was of utmost importance. Maritha went straight to the point. She had been sent to tell Vinjinia this story.

Once upon a time, there was a person who used to give Dove a nest and some castor seeds to eat, and now Dove heard that the person was in a place where no eyes of an ordinary citizen could reach him. Dove was hungry and wanted Vinjinia to find out everything she could about the person, where he was, how he was, things like that. Vinjinia should try to tell the person that Dove’s nest had caught fire but Dove was fine and was now breathing the same air as all other citizen birds. Maritha ended by telling Vinjinia that if she had any castor oil seeds that she wanted delivered to Dove, she should bring them to All Saints Cathedral on any Sunday and Maritha would make sure that Dove got them.